


Sweeter than Apple Pie

by blurryfaceimagines



Series: Wincest Love Week ~ 4 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Gen, M/M, No Smut, Sam's 22, mary and john are just mentioned, not Sam or Dean's though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaceimagines/pseuds/blurryfaceimagines
Summary: Wednesday's Promt: Sam bakes Dean a fresh apple pie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ' _Sam’s 22 here and Dean’s 16- I really hope you don’t mind the age swap!!! There’s no smut or anything explicitly romantic, jsyk XD _' If age swap squicks you, then, I guess don't read? This is kind of just angsty really, and seems rushed because I was late and wanted to submit before 24 hrs were up and I had to work on another prompt xD I'll be rewriting this one btw.__

Sam remembered a time when they used to be closer. Not that they weren’t close anymore, but he remembered days when it was hard to get them separated despite the age gap.

Sighing, he turned out the lights and checked the door was locked and bolted before going to the guest bedroom, which was now officially his brother’s.

Dean had taken the death of their mother really hard- the boy had barely spoken when he’d been finally wrapped in Sam’s embrace, and had only gotten quieter after the funeral.

There was no light seeping out from underneath the door, so Sam figured he was already asleep. Or was pretending to be asleep. Not wanting to go in suddenly in case the boy was up, Sam knocked gently on the door and creaked it open a couple moments later.

Sure enough, Dean was curled into a tight ball, blanket pulled up ro his shoulders, facing away from Sam.

They had been raised by their mother, their father having died in a car crash when a month before Dean was born. It wasn’t stretch to say that both boys had been very close to Mary, and even closer to each other.

Even Sam having gone to Stanford didn’t break that bond and each of their friends was well aware of the other brother.

Mary’s death though, Sam could tell, was hardest on the younger Winchester, who was now in Sam’s custody till he turned twenty in a couple years.

He watched his brother silently, worry and fear waging a constant battle inside, before finally convincing his body to just leave and get some sleep too. Pulling the door closed again, he vowed to himself that he’d help Dean deal with his depression as best as he could.  
     

* * *

 

Exam week having been wrapped up, Sam was relatively free which meant more time to give Dean, more time to indulge in a hobby he preferred. Between helping Dean catch up on what he’d missed during the move to Palo Alto and getting his research papers done, he’d been studying baking recipes. He couldn’t exactly do anything that would fill the whole Mary left behind in their lives, but he sure could help his baby brother eat, seeing as he had been rapidly losing weight and would only eat what little Sam could force down the kid’s mouth. Pie was one thing he knew he wouldn’t have to prompt the kid to eat.

In hindsight, he knew he was no psychiatrist, but Dean refused to speak to his doctor. In all the weekly appointments, he had yet to even make eye contact with the doctor, let alone speak a single word.

Sam had been told to wait in the reception area rather harshly (because let’s face it, Sam had been adamant about wanting to come in with Dean), but after a month of fruitless sessions, the doctor had begrudgingly asked Sam to come in too in hopes that having his brother there would help his patient talk.

Dean didn’t, in fact, say a word even then.

But he did glare at Sam, head tilted towards him to make the look effective, as if the whole thing was Sam’s fault. Sam knew his brother well and he knew Dean was only angry at him for bringing him to the appointments every week and wasn’t in fact, blaming him for anything else.

As they were leaving, the time having been up, Sam noted the doctor wasn’t looking as agitated as he did at the end of all his appointments with Dean. Which made him relax in return, thinking that whatever had happened was probably good. Perhaps Dean showing even a bit of emotion was good- a progress even.  
             

* * *

 

It will be half a year since their mother’s death in a couple months, and Sam has noticed Dean becoming calmer after that first day he was allowed in the doctor’s office along with him.

  
Dean’s still to say anything to the doctor, but he hasn’t been as closed off with his expressions in the room lately, and if Sam thought it was a blessing, he feels especially thankful since he has noticed Dean attempting to open up to him again.

  
Smiling to himself at the memory of Dean having come to curl up beside him on the couch last night, Sam pulls the sizzling pie out of the oven and places it on the counter to cool before setting the other prepared pie inside.

  
So Dean had cried himself to sleep last night. But Sam was happy because his brother had not only looked for physical comfort from him once again, but had actually spoken to him too- about how he felt, about how he missed Mary.

  
It hurt him, of course, to see his sweet little brother suffering so. Mary was his mother too, and he was upset and missed her too. But he wasn’t as torn up as Dean- he was dealing because she may have been his only parent for the most of his life, but Dean had always been his world. He had always kept him grounded, no matter how bad things got.

  
Like after his first break up. Like after losing his best friend.

  
Sam remembered being devastated.

  
He also remembered Dean having been there each time to wipe away his tears and hold his hands in his own tiny ones. How he would look into Sam’s eyes with all the sincerity, perched on Sam’s knee, and for a moment it would seem he was looking through him to his soul; and he would say, “It’s okay Sammy. You’re going to be okay.”

  
The sound of a breath being drawn had Sam turning around to see Dean in the doorway, hair mussed up from sleep and clothes rumpled up. The smile came unbidden at the sight, and he opened his arms in an invitation for a hug.  
“Mornin’ Sunshine.”

  
Blinking owlishly at the sight Dean heaved in another breath, his lungs filling further with the sweet smell of cinnamon and baked apple.

  
“G'morning,” Dean responded, automatically moving into his brother’s embrace, voice light and breathless- as if he were in a trance.

  
“How’re you feeling?”

  
“Sammy, what’re you bakin’ for?”

  
Sam let the evasion slide this time if only because Dean having taken the offer of a hug meant he must be feeling better.

  
“For you, Dean. I-I remember how you love pie. And I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you. I wanna be there for you. ”

So the Winchesters weren’t the best with words- their dad hadn’t been, according to what Mary had told them. But what they lacked in showing through words they made up for in understanding the things that went unsaid, and Sam hoped Dean would understand the whole of what he was trying to say.

  
Head tilted to the side, Dean maintained eye contact with Sam as he babbled, and a slow, sad smile pulled at his lips. He reached up and pulled Sam down by the shoulders so he could kiss him on the tip of that adorable upturned nose.

  
“Thank you, Sammy! You’re sweeter than apple pie.”


End file.
